


Love, Tim

by wocket



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Letters, M/M, POV Second Person, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: Tim writes letters he'll never be able to send.
Relationships: Tim McVeigh/Mike Fortier
Kudos: 2





	Love, Tim

You get into the habit of writing letters you’ll never send. You’ve always written letters - to your sister Jennifer, to women, to newspapers. People don’t always want to listen to your ideas, so you’ve found it to be a good way to express your thoughts and get a point across without people shutting you down.

Now that you’re in prison and will be for the rest of your life, letters are the only way of communicating at all. It’s the only way you have a voice. 

Lately all of the letters you write are addressed to the same person. You don’t have much paper, but what you do have is dedicated to your best friend Mike Fortier. You didn’t know what to say at first, but now the words won’t stop coming. You spend every chance you get trying to find the right words. _Mike, dear Mike, hello Mike, my friend…_

You sign all those letters the same way: _Love, Tim_. 

Would it make him angry? There are so many things you want to tell him, but they call Mike your “co-conspirator” (you still call him your friend).

You’ll never be able to see him. You’ll never be able to talk to him again.

It doesn’t stop you from trying.

All the letters you’ll never send to Mike remind you of the letters you _did_ pass back and forth during Desert Storm. You bared your soul in those letters, scared you might never see him again, scared you might never make it out. You were heartbroken when you found out Mike wasn’t going with you to the East. The whole damn point of the COHORT unit was to remain together, and he should have been by your side.

Mike had sent you letters and books and magazines and candy, all the things he would’ve wanted if he were here. You loved it all, glad in one way that he didn’t go because it meant Mike was safer back home. You hated imagining not returning home, but you feel like you signed your death warrant the day you joined the service. 

You remember fondly the way you always folded Mike’s letters up and tucked them in your fatigues - chest pocket, left side - never losing sight of the day you’d see him again. 

Horrible images of Mike ignoring your letters, crumpling them, ignoring _you_ flash through your mind. Can you blame him? You’ve ruined him, ruined his life. He’s always been patient with you, but you can’t expect him to give you the benefit of the doubt now. Still, you write to him. _He’ll never see the letters,_ you remind yourself, _so it doesn’t matter anyway_. You know your letters will never be delivered, the lawyers would never help you with something like that. You write them anyway.

You don’t know what’s going on inside you. You lie awake at night, thinking of him, of the two of you, of the way life used to be. Does he lie awake at night regretting ever having met you? Does he wish you never existed? 

Those are the nights you feel like a ghost.


End file.
